Eternity Crying
by Rachael-Rose
Summary: Rose wasn't the only one left behind.
1. Chapter 1

_Stop. Stopstopstopstopstop_… 

Rose honestly thought she was going to go crazy if it went on for much longer. That _noise_. It ran through her like electricity, perpetual pins and needles of the mind that in turn set her whole body on edge. It was like waking in the night with the certainty that something was hiding under your bed and laying there in the silence, just waiting for it to jump out. Except this wasn't something that occurred merely at night. It was constant, and neither the day-cycle nor the brightest light of whatever sun or suns that they happened to land beneath could chase the shadows away.

Leaving the TARDIS offered some respite, but even then it was there, buzzing around in the back of Rose's mind like an insect. In the week or so since Christmas, they'd tried to relax, take a break, and forget about the chaos thrust upon them by so many Daleks, psycho Santas and, let's not forget, that change of face. The instinctive knowledge that what little of the events on the Game Station had hit the Doctor harder than he cared to reveal made Rose unwilling to bring this up too; the possibility that it was a result of whatever she'd been stupid enough to go and do, and the resulting guilt on either side, wasn't something pleasant to think about.

That was another strange thing – no matter how loud it seemed to get - and the volume fluctuated violently - the Doctor seemed blissfully unaware. Now as Rose sat in the captain's chair, hugging her knees to her chest and trying to think of anything but the metallic screeching coming from every wall and strut in the room, he quite happily lay half-underneath the console, legs sticking out in some rather odd directions, alternately humming the chorus of Fall Out Boy's '_Dance Dance_' and muttering to the console above him.

And then two things happened.

The screech changed to one long, plaintive wail – one that Rose imagined, in between clutching at her head, sounded like a woman's cry. It was almost human sounding but for the impossibly high pitch; almost so high that she couldn't hear it. It felt as though it went off and on like a light, and she revelled in the brief silence before practically falling from the chair in pain as it returned.

Almost at the exact same time, the lights went out. The Doctor cursed aloud and clambered out from beneath the console, pressing a button that activated a dim red glow of an emergency lighting system. Rose could hear him talking, half to himself and half to her, about some kind of power failure, but the voice wavered like the cry. As the lights flickered into life, she felt the floor shake, and what she could only describe as an angry growl came from somewhere above them both. The TARDIS didn't like that.

"Make it STOP!" Rose couldn't hold it in any longer. The Doctor stared at her in silence for a moment, clearly wondering what the Hell she was raving about, until concern took over and he made a grab for her as she paced around the captain's chair.

"What is it, Rose? What?"

She buried her head in his jacket as though trying to muffle the noise. "Make it stop…make it stop!" she mumbled into the fabric, crying now. "All week…can't you hear it?"

"What is it?" he repeated, confused. Rose's crying stopped suddenly, and she looked up at him, then around the room as something he couldn't fathom dawned on her.

"Cry." She smiled faintly, relief etched onto her face as she figured it out. "Crying."

"Who's crying? You are! What?"

The emergency lights went out, and the entire room was plunged into darkness. "She's crying."

The familiar background hum of the TARDIS went out next. Rose lowered her palms from hers ears, her smile gone. "She was, anyway."


	2. Chapter 2

"What d'you mean, she's crying? I know what she sounds like when she's crying, and I can't hear anything." The Doctor looked even more bemused than before. He certainly meant it when he said that he'd heard it before; it had only been once, but that had been enough.

"Why was she crying?" Rose asked softly, sensing the beginnings of distress in his voice.

The Doctor surprised her. Instead of avoiding the question as he usually would, he went straight to the point. "There was an explosion. So loud, you've never heard anything so loud. The shock hit us and I must have fallen or something, I blacked out. When I woke up we were in the Vortex, running for our lives…the explosion was still ringing in my ears, I was covered in dust. I was bleeding. And there was this noise. It was _horrible_, Rose. We spent three weeks on a desert planet, alone, until she stopped crying."

Although Rose couldn't see a thing in the darkness, her sense of hearing felt as though it was amplified by the loss of sight, and she could hear every hitch in the Doctor's voice as he spoke. He sounded like he was holding back tears himself, and she felt around tentatively until she could wrap her arms round his shoulders and draw him into a hug.

"The war," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"I didn't even realise I'd regenerated. I must have smelt awful, hanging around that place in the same shirt. Ruined a damn good coat, too. Do you remember when we had Margaret on board?" he asked abruptly, changing the subject. "All that light. Eternity, in that tiny space. Do you know what it's like to listen to eternity cry and not be able to do anything?"

"I do now. Why can't you hear it? It's been in my head since we left the Game Station, and that's only been a week. It must have driven you mad."

"She doesn't want me to, I suppose. Why, though? Why can't she tell me what's wrong?" The Doctor sniffed loudly and clutched at Rose even harder, but she moved away.

"I feel so stupid. It was so obvious what was wrong. I'm gonna try and do something." She scanned the oppressive blackness for any sign of light, but there was none. Slowly, feeling rather stupid talking to a wall or a roof, she said, "Talk to me. I want to help."

_Rose._

"Yeah?"

_Why doesn't he want me anymore?_


End file.
